Follower
by pappy yokum's moonbeam
Summary: Ben has officially said goobye to his dad and left the second mass. Little does he know he has a little follower.
1. Leaving

**(a/n) Is it weird to be working on two fanfictions at once? As I was sitting reading, munching on nutella, this one came to me, and I know if I don't get it down now, I never will. So here it is!**

Matt scanned the trees slowly, looking for any sign of Ben he could find. It had just been a few days ago that Ben had confided in him that he would have to leave, and though Matt didn't want him to, he knew deep down that Ben was right. So few people in the Second Mass trusted him, and that small number had decreased since Karen had come along, if only for one day, and ruined everything. Even Hal had a hard time trusting him, if only just for a little bit. Matt didn't understand what was really going on with his family, and he hated it when they kept secrets from them, but he knew _something_ was up with Ben, Hal, and even their dad. The relationship was strained; he could see it.

So when Matt had casually looked all around and found that Ben was nowhere in sight, he had been worried. For now, he was covering it up by helping Hal load up a truck with food and medical supplies, but he couldn't help a knot from forming in his stomach. Where was Ben?

"Alright, we move out in five!" He heard Weaver yell in his gruff voice. He made one last desperate scan of the tree line, and finally something caught his eye. He focused as hard as he could on the spot he had seen it, and he could barely see Ben. He smiled and opened his mouth to call out to his brother, relieved, but then he noticed that Ben had on a backpack. He really _was_ leaving. Matt's shoulders slumped as he looked at the ground. He didn't want Ben to go.

He looked sadly back up at Ben, and was startled to notice that somebody else was talking to him. His dad! Matt smiled again. He would be able to talk Ben out of leaving! He watched them for a little bit, waiting for them to finish up and come walking back to the rest of the group, arms slung around each other's shoulders, but it didn't happen. Matt's smile faded again as he noticed his dad begin to cry. Then Ben hugged him, and they stayed that way for a really long time. When they broke apart, Ben started walking away, and his dad was staring after him.

Matt's frown deepened. Did this mean his dad was letting Ben go? But Ben couldn't leave – surely his dad knew that. But no matter how Matt turned it over in his head, it really did look as though Tom was letting Ben go. Matt felt tears sting at the edge of his vision, and angrily blinked his eyes to get rid of them. He was a big boy now – he was even allowed to carry a gun – he shouldn't be crying. But he felt as though something had been scooped out of his stomach, almost like he had when they had found his mom and she was dead. This wasn't fair. His dad wasn't just supposed to let Ben leave. Even if he had to, why couldn't they all have gone together? As a family? They'd only just been reunited. Why did Ben have to go so soon? And he didn't even say goodbye.

"Alright, we're moving out now!" Weaver's gruff voice interrupted Matt's thoughts. He threw one last glance over his shoulder and managed to catch one last glimpse of Ben rounding the corner of the trail they were on – going the opposite direction, of course.

"Hey, buddy, watcha lookin' at?" Hal had noticed Matt staring forlornly after his brother, who had finally vanished from sight.

"Just saw a rabbit over there. It was kind of cute." Matt lied, knowing he could never tell Hal about what happened. He would save that for their dad; he would be better at explaining why, anyway.

"Alright, well, that's cool and all, but we gotta move." Matt felt Hal's hand on his shoulder, turning him around and guiding him the same way the group was going. They saw their dad walking towards them, rubbing his face, in an attempt to hide the tears in his eyes. Hal would never notice, or he would wait until they were away from Matt to mention it, but because Matt had seen what was going on, he knew.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of anger towards his dad wash over him. He had let Ben leave. He knew how much effort had gone into his rescue, how badly they had missed him, how badly they had wanted him back. He himself had pinned that picture up on that bulletin board at the school that now seemed light years away. It had been Matt's biggest birthday wish, Hal had risked his own life trying to get Ben back, and his dad had just let him go? It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair to any of them!

"Weaver might want to see us up front sometime soon." Tom said, looking up at Hal, who nodded. Then he looked down at Matt and asked "You excited about Charleston?"

Matt could only sullenly shrug in response, not trusting his voice to hide the anger he felt inside him. He knew deep down that it wasn't fair to his dad, that he had known that this day was coming, but all he could think about was the fact that Ben had just left, after they had only just gotten him back. It wasn't fair. This whole past year hadn't been fair. But nobody cared about fair when you were fighting to survive, and that wasn't fair either.

"You okay?" Tom had noticed Matt's sullenness. Matt looked at him and nodded, hoping that he would go away soon so that he could be alone with his thoughts. Tom frowned and opened his mouth, about to say something, when he heard Weaver call his name from the front of the group. He turned his head to the voice, then looked back at Matt. "You stay here. We'll talk when I get done talking to Weaver, okay?" Matt nodded again, but knew it was sort of a lie.

He didn't want to do what his dad told him. Why should he listen to the man that had let his brother go? Memories of the harnessing facility flooded his mind, and he quickly blocked them out. _That_ was why he should listen to his dad. He knew that already, had learned that lesson (regrettably) the hard way, but he still didn't want to. It still wasn't fair.

"Hey Matt!" It was Lourdes. Matt rolled his eyes. Lourdes was great and all, but she had an uncanny knack of picking up on people's moods, and Matt definitely didn't want to talk about his right now. "What's the matter?" Her voice had a little less concern in it than it usually would, but she had almost seemed cold up until now after Jamile's death, so this was an improvement from anything.

"Nothing," Matt lied, trying to shrug it off, but when he noticed Lourdes looking at him skeptically, he sighed. "I just kind of miss my mom right now, is all." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie. Not a day went by that he didn't miss his mom. It was funny; they may not have always gotten along, and Matt had never missed her at camp or while spending the night at a friend's, but for some reason the knowledge that he would never see her again made him miss her more than he thought he could. He looked up at Lourdes and gave her a tiny half-smile, hoping that his explanation would be enough.

She looked at him sadly and squeezed his shoulder, know that there wasn't really anything she could do about that, and continued up the group with her last box of medical supplies. Matt stared forlornly again in the direction Ben had gone, and his heart seemed to do a funny lurch at the thought of him being all by himself out there.

Then Matt's brow wrinkled in thought. Maybe Ben didn't have to be all by himself. Matt knew that he couldn't exactly protect his big brother, but everyone got lonely, right? And what if Ben got lonely? Matt looked back towards the Second Mass, chewing his lip and considering his options. He could stay here and be miserable without Ben, his favorite brother (don't tell Hal!) and harboring this anger towards his dad, or he could follow Ben, that way they both could have some company. He made his decision.

He drastically slowed down his walk, that way it would seem like he was still with the group and he wouldn't draw too much attention to himself, and as soon as he was far enough behind them, he started running in the opposite direction. He made it to the bend and rounded it, much the same way Ben had, and stopped for a little bit to choose his plan of action. He stared on down the trail he knew Ben had followed, at least for a little while, while listening to the fading voices of the group. In a few moments it was completely silent. He nervously bit his lip, thinking for a moment about what he was about to do, then finally decided to just do it. He took a step after his brother, into an unknown world, and then another. With each one came more confidence. _I can do this_, he thought, and with that, he began his journey.

**(a/n) So, what do you think? **


	2. Thinking

**(a/n) So this story is really running through my head, so I think I'm going to do the second chapter right now! Which is weird. Enjoy!**

Ben bent down to cup some water in his trembling hands to drink. He may have been much stronger than he ever had been in his entire life, but he still needed water to survive, and that was something he hadn't thought to pack in the small bag he carried. He mentally kicked himself for that stupid mistake. It being nearly winter, water wasn't particularly hard to come by, but if he drank something bad along with it, it could easily set him back. He did still get sick, after all.

As he walked, he thought absent-mindedly of the goodbye he and his father had just shared. He felt a prickling at the corners of his eyes as he thought of what his dad had said. He had to leave, he knew he had to, and if it meant keeping his family safe, he would suffer any pain it caused him to do so.

But he wasn't anticipating the pain being this much. It was literally hurting his heart to think about them, but he couldn't not. He thought about his first day of preschool – he could remember it only slightly – and he remembered seeing the pain in his dad's eyes as he screamed "Don't leave me," over and over. He felt a loan tear escape at the thought of how heart-wrenching that must have been for his dad to hear.

And now, here was Ben, leaving the Second Mass, leaving his family, forever. He thought he understood how his dad felt that first day of preschool. When he thought about the look on Tom's face – the look that screamed please don't leave me – it made Ben want to cry. And then he thought about Hal, his over-protective, hot-headed big brother, who would try his best to understand, to go along with it, but would still be so confused, and upset, and angry. Probably scared, too.

Ben hadn't really understood until a few days ago just how _much _Hal really did care for him. He knew that he had risked his life to save him from the skitters, and he understood that his brother did care, but with the realization of how much that had only recently hit him, it caused a knot to form in his throat. He had realized that maybe all those things Hal had said to him over the years that came across as mean were really meant to build him up, to make him tougher. He had been informed by Maggie just yesterday that going in with Rick's harness strapped to his back had been Hal's idea, not Weavers or his dad's. And when he thought about it, Ben thought he was an idiot for not seeing that before. Of course it wasn't their dad's idea; he was far too protective to let Hal go in alone, let alone to come up with an idea that puts him in danger. And an idea like that required more than smarts, it requires an imagination as well; something that comes with a young mind, not one as old as Captain Weaver's.

The most surprising testimony of all, though, was when Dai had told him a few weeks ago about the first time Hal had seen Ben alive after he'd been taken. They had been on a food run, and Hal and Karen had been scouting ahead, when Hal had to suddenly crouch down in a ditch to avoid being seen by a group of harnessed kids being led by a Mech. One of those harnessed kids had been Ben, and as soon as Hall had seen him, he'd run off towards the group, completely forgetting about the food and the mission, and just how many Skitters and Mechs there had been. Their dad had literally had to tackle him off the bike to prevent him from going after Ben right that very second.

When Dai had told Ben about that incident a few weeks ago, Ben had still been hot-headed and hate-filled, and he hadn't cared to listen. But as he thought about it now, a small sob escaped his lips. Hal had loved him, he had known that, he had always known that, but he had been blinded by his rage and paranoia to his attempts to help him. And now he couldn't apologize for that.

But Hal would do his best to be strong. He knew that, because he knew that Matt would need protecting. Hal and Ben had both always felt that way. Protect the baby, because he's the baby. Protect his innocence, even if it's gone by now. Protect the baby. Keep him a baby. We all need a baby.

That turned out not to work so well. But Ben thought he understood, now, where Hel had been coming from when he had been angry about Matt learning to shoot. Matt was the last bit of anything innocent any of them had in their lives; the thought of that being taken away was too much to bear.

Ben thought he was going to miss Matt most of all. Matt had a smile that could light up a room, and he was still young enough to get excited over little things. Matt would be so confused and angry when he figured out Ben had left. Ben couldn't hold back the tears any longer when he thought about poor Matt, and he just started crying. Over everything. Over his mom, over Jimmy, over Rick, over his family, over -

A sudden and all-too-familiar clicking to his right stopped him in his tracks, and he whipped his head to the side. He couldn't see the skitter, but knew it was there, somewhere, nonetheless. He had heard it. Granted, his hearing was far better than the average human's, so it could be far off, but he knew that the Skitter's was better than his, so if he could hear them, they could probably hear him.

He needed to get off the trail. Looking around him, Ben carefully stepped backwards towards the forest, readying his gun for the first sign of trouble. Then he quickly turned and sprinted into the cover of the forest.

**(a/n) So those are just a few of Ben's thoughts on leaving the Second Mass. I'm kind of liking this story so far, but that's probably because there's more to it in my head than is currently on paper. Or computer, as the case may be. I hope you guys enjoy it!**


	3. Attack

**(a/n) Chapter three!**

Matt looked nervously at the quickly darkening sky, reconsidering his decision to follow Ben. He knew that Ben could handle himself out there, and he hadn't even thought to bring food, water, or a jacket. He hadn't even brought a means to defend himself in the event of something happening, and he was all alone. It was getting so cold, and so dark, and Matt was so scared, and his dad and Hal would have noticed by now that he was gone and they would be worried out of their minds. Matt looked behind him at where he had come from, and then ahead of him at where he was going, and felt a sense of hopelessness sink into his chest. Maybe this hadn't been his smartest idea yet.

He wrapped his arms around his skinny torso and trudged on, hoping that Ben had stopped somewhere ahead to camp for the night. He was thinking that it was incredibly stupid of him to do this at all, when he heard voices off to his left. He looked over and saw a flickering orange light, and stepped off the trail to make for it. He already knew it wasn't Ben – unless Ben frequently talked to himself and was really good at impersonations – but he hoped whoever it was was friendly. He was so tired and hungry he was willing to chance it even if they weren't.

He approached the makeshift camp sight and saw what looked like a young couple sitting and talking to each other. He was just about to step out from behind his tree and make himself known to the couple, but then he heard something that alarmed him.

"Yea I shot him. Of course I shot him, he was trying to steal from us." The woman was saying. Matt shrank back into the darkness and felt a whimper rise up in his throat. He quickly swallowed it; he didn't want to be caught by these murderers.

"Good. Because we can't have anymore of you taking it easy on these people. We need to defend our property. We can't afford to lose food; we barely have enough as it is." The man was saying gruffly.

"I know how much food we have, okay? I'm not stupid, ya'know. I just don't feel right shooting anything that isn't an alien freak. We don't really need to _shoot _everybody. I mean, that was the last of the ammo in my gun, and he was just as hungry-" _Crack!_ The woman was silenced by her boyfriend – Matt assumed – bringing his hand across her face, and Matt couldn't help a tiny gasp escaping from his lips.

"Shut up! It doesn't matter! It isn't our job to look out for anyone else. We look out for us. Just us. You got that?" He hissed angrily. The woman, with her shoulders slumped and a dejected look on her face, merely nodded. She looked as though she had long since learned not to argue.

Matt did his best to take a quiet step backwards, knowing it was high time that he got out of there, but then he heard his stomach give a tremendous rumble. He snapped his head up at the couple to see if they had heard, but they were still talking quietly and hadn't taken any notice. Matt chewed his lip, thinking. He needed food. He was hungry, tired, and cold. He could see the couple's backpacks sitting by their motorcycles, and if he stayed under cover, he thought he could just get to them. He knew they had food, and they probably had water. He felt guilty about stealing, but desperate times called for desperate measures. This was a desperate time.

His stomach made the final decision by rumbling once more, and Matt started slowly and quietly making his way around the edge of the campsite. As soon as he got behind the bikes, where the backpacks were, he dropped silently down to his hands and knees, keeping his eyes intently upon the couple. He felt the fabric of the backpack under his fingers, and silently felt for the zipper. He was surprised to find it open. He quickly stuck his hand inside and pulled out the first thing that fit into it: a can of beans. He did it again with the other and was rewarded with a can of green beans. Blech. Matt hated green beans, but beggars can't be choosers, and he was too hungry to care. He started to slowly inch backwards when something orange caught his eye. He looked to his right.

A water bottle! He grinned, then quickly glanced over to the couple before snatching it up. He couldn't believe his luck. He continued backing up until he was under the cover of darkness again, then got up and ran. When he finally decided that the coast was clear, he looked all around him and sat down by a tree to enjoy his well-earned feast.

He quickly downed half the contents of the bottle, then had to pull it away from his mouth to save some for later. Ravenously ripping open the can of beans, he stuck his grubby hand straight into the mess and stuck them into his mouth. He had never tasted anything so delicious before in his life; the beans were gone in two minutes flat. Next he picked up the green beans and pondered them, debating in his mind whether or not he should eat them. He had always disliked green beans, but in his situation he couldn't exactly turn down a meal, no matter how bad it tasted. Besides, the pain in his stomach was gone, but he could still feel a definite lack of food. Taking a deep breath, he peeled open the can and nervously stuck his hand inside. Surprisingly enough, the beans weren't as disgusting as Matt remembered, and they were gone in a short time as well.

Matt sat back against the tree, still sipping the water and thinking about what to do next. He needed sleep, he knew that for sure, but he wasn't sure about just where to get some. That couple was still out there, somewhere behind him, and they were bound to notice that the water bottle was missing eventually. He didn't even want to think about the possibility of skitters – he knew they worked mostly at night, and it made his stomach tie up in painful knots to think about the possibility of an attack while he was sleeping. It brought back all-to-painful memories of the harnessing facility. He could still hear the screams of the other kids, smell the stench of that goo that covered the newborn harnesses feel the pain of the spikes just beginning to dig into his back…

He mentally shook himself. It wouldn't do to drive himself mad with memories that were done and over with. He got up out of a need to move his legs, and turned around only to find himself face to face the man from earlier. He gasped and dropped the water bottle, backing away as the man bent to pick it up. Matt turned to try to run, but he didn't get two steps before a wiry, muscular arm wrapped around his chest. He yelped and tried to fight back, but even before he started he knew he had lost. The man began carrying him back to the campsite.

As soon as Matt was tossed onto the ground, he shot straight up into a standing position. He paused before running, though; these people had guns, something Matt did not have, and it was obvious that they weren't afraid to use them. He knew he couldn't outrun a bullet, so he stayed where he was, terrified, staring into the eyes of the woman who he knew had been sympathetic earlier. He wondered for a moment if he could beg hard enough to make her spare him.

"Found him drinking out of our missing water bottle," The man was saying, "And there were two empty cans where he was as well, which means that he stole some food from us too." The man reached over and yanked Matt's dirty blond curls, forcing him into a sitting position. "Stay there!" He commanded.

Matt began to cry. He had just wanted to keep his brother company; this wasn't fair. He missed his brothers, he was hungry, he was thirsty, he was so cold, and he really, really missed his dad. His dad would have easily been able to talk them out of a situation like this. He began to sniffle in earnest, and when he looked up, he noticed that the woman was looking at him with something like pity. At first, Matt didn't care. But after thinking about it for a little while, he began to think of ways he could use it to his advantage. He looked he straight in the eye and began to cry harder.

"Please," He began, "Please. I was just so hungry-" He sounded pathetic even to his own ears "-and I'm so tired… Please just let me go. I just needed food. Please let me go." And he began to sob harder than ever, really sob, at the thought of never seeing his brothers or his dad again.

The woman looked at him and bit her lip, the turned to the man and said, "C'mon, Rob. He's a kid. A scared little kid. It didn't do that much harm. We don't have to shoot him or anything. He's just a little kid." The woman pleaded with Rob to see sense, but Matt could see him getting angrier, could sense it rising inside him. He shrank away before the explosion.

"I am sick of you contradicting and questioning me! I am the leader here, not you! You got that? You do as I say, exactly when I say to do it! I don't want to hear another contradiction out of you! Got it?" He smacked her across the face with the backside of his hand, then looked over at Matt. Matt shrank further away and whimpered. "And you! You thought you could just get away with stealing from us? I don't think so. You'll see what happens to people who try to steal from us." He lifted the gun to Matt's head, aiming exactly between Matt's eyes. Matt gritted his teeth, waiting for Rob to shoot, but before he got the chance, the woman kicked the gun out of his hand. Surprised, Rob turned to look at her, and Matt saw a chance to run.

He knew he would never be able to outrun them on foot, but he was excellent at climbing trees, and he was surrounded by them. He sprinted to the nearest tree, leaving the sounds of the squabble behind him, and began climbing as fast as his malnourished limbs would allow.

"See what you did? He got away!" Rob yelled, and raised his hand to slap the woman again. A clicking noise from behind him froze him in his tracks, however, and he turned slowly, terrified. Anybody left in the world knew that noise, and sure enough, there was a skitter standing and watching.

Matt looked on in terror, frozen to the tree for fear of being seen. From what he had heard, skitters had amazing sight and hearing, but he figured if he stayed perfectly still, he wouldn't be caught. He hoped not, anyway; goodness knew they could climb.

The woman screamed and Rob dove to pick up his gun, but the skitter had already descended upon them, stepping on Rob's hand and pinning him to the ground. Rob looked up at the skitter in terror as it wrapped its hand around his neck and began to choke him. It didn't take that long. Then the skitter turned to the woman, who was shaking and sobbing with fright as she backed away from the alien freak.

Matt began to cry again as he hid up in the tree, the feeling of hopelessness once more settling on him. He was never going to be able to do this… Why, oh why, did he ever leave the second mass? He couldn't help but let a cough/sob escape his lips, which caused the skitter to whip his head towards the sound. The woman saw her chance to survive and turned to run while the skitter was still trained on Matt.

Matt, noticing he'd been spotted, began backing up the branch he was on. He knew skitters could climb very well, and he was terrified of what this one would do to him. It began advancing towards the tree, then to climb up it towards Matt. That thing was a fast little bug! Matt, forgetting that he was on a tree, turned to run away from the alien freak, but lost his balance and slipped. He screamed as he fell – why not? – and when he landed he felt something snap in his ankle, causing him to collapse forward and hit his head with a _smack!_ on the tree in front of him. Spots popped in front of his eyes as he rolled over, earning an invisible dagger to his ankle. Everything was sliding in and out of focus, and he smelled metal and tasted something coppery on his tongue. He was so confused. What was going on?

The last thing he saw was the fuzzy image of a skitter looming over him before the world went black.

**(a/n) So this chapter was kind of weird. Fun to write though. I hope it was equally fun to read. Please let me know!**


	4. Like Dandelion Dust

**(a/n) And number four! We get to see Hal and Tom in this one. I'm kind of excited to see how that turns out. Poor Tom. I wonder how he's reacting.**

Tom Mason sat on his cot with his head in his hands, waterfalls threatening to pour from his eyes. He and Hal hadn't noticed that Matt was missing until after dark, when the Second Mass had settled down to camp for the night – much too late for a search party, Weaver had determined. Even if they had gone looking for Matt against his will, Tom knew it would have hardly proved successful; it was much too dark. First thing the next morning, though, Tom and Hal had mounted bikes along with the usual recon team and driven at least twenty-five miles out in different directions to look for any sign of the missing nine-year-old. Oddly enough, Pope had come along too, as well as half the berserkers. He understood why Tector felt the need to come – he still felt guilty about putting Matt's life in danger – and Tom knew the other berserkers felt obliged to, seeing as Tom was their new leader, but Pope tagging along was just plain weird. Was he trying to make up for what he'd done?

What did it matter anyway? Everyone had searched everywhere until sunset, and still no Matt. He wasn't anywhere. The only thing anyone had found was signs of a struggle; a dead man who looked as though he had been choked to death, and not far off was his sobbing girlfriend. She had been distraught and they had brought her back to camp to recuperate.

Tom rubbed his throbbing temples. Two days since Ben had left, two days since Matt had gone missing. It was obvious that Matt had followed Ben, but beyond that, Tom didn't know a thing. He could only hope that Matt had found Ben – Ben would take care of Matt, and most likely take him back to safety – but he knew it was unlikely. There were so many things out there even besides skitters, and when Tom thought about little, frightened Matt out there all by himself, it brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. He had known Ben was leaving. He had been prepared for that – as prepared as he could be, anyway. He had known it would be hard, but he had been bracing himself. He had still bawled like a baby, though, saying goodbye.

And who could blame him? That was his little boy, his baby, his son – from the moment Ben had first been the whisper of a thought in his mind until the day he, Tom, died (which he sincerely hoped was well before all his children did,) he was going to love Ben with all his heart. And when he had finally come to accept the fact that Ben was leaving, it had felt like someone had ripped out his heart – it felt almost the same as when he had lost Rebecca. He had known Ben could handle himself, though, and that, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't protect his children forever, and he would have to let Ben go in order to keep all three of them safe. It's funny – he had always thought the safest place for all three of his children was in his arms, and he had ended up having to send one far away to keep them safe.

He had been prepared, though. He had known.

But Matt had just run away. He was still so little, and Tom knew how scared he got because he was still so babied, and he knew how cold it was getting. He knew that Matt didn't have anything with him – no food, no water, no weapons, no extra clothes – and that thought terrified him more than skitters did. At least if he got harnessed, Matt would be alive and well, and they could find him and remove it since they knew how now. But a recently-turned nine-year-old did not know how to defend against the elements, and with it being winter the possibilities of hypothermia, pneumonia, and frost bite were present along with everything that usually came with the elements. He knew Matt wouldn't know whether or not he was getting dehydrated; he didn't have the knowledge or the wherewithal to recognize the symptoms yet. He was so small, and he would be so scared out there all by himself, in the dark, all alone…

Tom covered his eyes with his hands as the tears finally started to fall. He couldn't lose two children, not like this. Not his wife, then Ben and Matt… He had only just started to allow himself happiness after Rebecca. For a little bit, he had wondered if Matt's disappearance had been some sort of divine punishment for his happiness, but he had known the moment the idea had come into his mind that it was absurd. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about God at the moment, but he knew that if He existed, that wasn't how He worked.

Tom moaned and clutched at the back of his hair, beginning to sob and rock. He felt like a helpless child, unable to do anything to protect the ones he loved. He felt like they were all slipping like sand between his fingers, but in the worst way possible. This feeling wasn't supposed to come until he was sending them away to college, and even then it was supposed to be bitter-sweet. Instead, he was left with a taste like sour milk in his mouth and a sharp pain in his chest any time he thought about his two youngest children. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had been a good father, hadn't he? Let them know he loved them, adored them even, that they were the best things in his life. But two of them were gone now, and he had failed even further by failing to be strong for-

"Dad?" Hal's voice was unusually soft as it came through the door of the tent. Tom's head snapped to the sound as he quickly tried to wipe away the tears still cascading down his cheeks. "Dad…" Hal's voice trailed off as he walked into the tent to sit beside his dad on the small cot. Unable to think of anything to say, he simply put his arms around his father and began to cry along with him. No matter how old he got, Hal would always need moments like this with his dad.

They had had a fight the night Ben had left. It had ensued halfway through the meeting with Weaver on what route was best for the least amount of resistance on the road to Charleston. It was Pope, funnily enough, who had noticed Ben's absence first. "Where's ol' Razorback?" He had asked, then his eyes had widened at what he had said. He had looked immediately at Tom to brace himself for any attack in defense of Ben, but Tom had merely put his head down and tightly shut his eyes in some invisible pain.

"He left," Tom answered, barely above a whisper, and Hal had reacted almost immediately.

"What do you mean he left?" He had demanded, and with his dad's explanation of how it had been dangerous for the group for him to stay, and how he had wanted so badly to make him stay but couldn't, and how it was probably safer this way for Hal and Matt, Hal had become furious. "What do you mean we'll be safer? What about Ben being safer, huh? He may be strong, but he's a fifteen-year-old kid! A year ago he was a mathlete! I busted my ass getting him back from those skitters, and you just let him leave?" Tom tried to explain why, but Hal wouldn't hear it. "You let him go out there all by himself dad! You didn't even tell me first so I could say goodbye!" And with that, he had turned around and left the group, ignoring Weaver's commands to stay, and his father's pleads to listen. He found a secluded spot where he could cry on his own; he felt like the worst big brother in the whole world. He was supposed to protect Ben; he didn't care how strong he got or whether or not he could fend for himself. That was his little brother, and Hal was supposed to protect him. But now his little brother was out there all by himself now, and the only way he had treated him the past few days had been with mistrust and near-contempt. He couldn't even apologize.

His dad had found him about thirty minutes later, after he had finished bawling his eyes out. He just sat down beside him in silence, waiting for Hal to speak first; he knew that would work better than talking himself. Finally, Hal spoke up in a hoarse half-whisper, "I didn't even say goodbye to him." Then he looked at his dad and asked, "Are we going to see him again?"

Tom rubbed at his eyes, then leaned forward to hold his son to him. "I don't know," he began honestly, "but Ben seemed very confident that we would. And I have to hope that we will. I refuse to let that be the last time I see my son."

Hal waited a little while longer before muttering into his dad's shoulder "When were you planning on telling Matt?"

Tom squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. That was what he had tried not to think about. He knew that Matt and Ben had gotten very close over the past few weeks, and he didn't want to imagine the heartbreak in his little boy's eyes when he told him about his big brother leaving. "I don't – I don't know." He finally answered meekly.

"We can tell him together, if you want." Hal had offered, and then felt his dad nod into his shoulder. They broke apart to go find the youngest Mason, and fifteen minutes later they were panicking to Weaver that had run off or gotten lost.

Hal was remembering that entire first day all over again as he and his dad held each other and cried, and all he could do was hope with all his heart that both his little brothers were still alive out there, and that maybe – _maybe – _they were together.

**(a/n) Aww. Poor Tom. An Hal, but we didn't see much of him in this chapter. Not as much as I had hoped, anyway. Oh, well, maybe another chapter. It feels like I would be slaughtering it to drag it on.**


	5. Alone

**(a/n) Chapter five! **

Matt was pulled from his slumber by the distant sound of shouting and gunshots. _Great_, he thought, _Hal's watching another action movie. Now I'll never get the TV. _He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

He dreamed as he slept. He dreamed of his father coming to comfort him for being sick, bringing into his room food that was rotten and rancid. He got up to puke and when he opened the door to his bathroom, he stepped out into thin air. He looked ahead, finding he had nearly run off the edge of a cliff, and saw skitters across the canyon. They were catapulting rocks at Matt. No wait; those were rocks, they were heads! He stared down at one and was horrified to see it was Jimmy, still coughing up blood. He started to say something, but before he could, another pile was catapulted over, burying what was already there. Stomach lurching violently, Matt turned and slammed the door shut. He looked at his dad, who reached out his hand towards Matt. "What's wrong Matty?" But even as he spoke it, the question began to warp, like a record slowing down. The fingers at the end of his dad's arm began to melt, and with the smell of burning acid, so did his face. It was all drooping and dripping to the floor, and when Matt's dad lifted a leg to walk towards him, it collapsed in a pile of liquid beneath him.

Matt awoke with a start, relieved to see the room that he and Ben shared. His mom had just come in with a pile of laundry for them, and she looked at Matt in concern. "What's wrong honey? Did you have a nightmare?" Matt nodded mutely in response, and held out his arms to his mother. Before she could step closer, however, she was shot to the ground.

"_No_!" Matt screamed as he scrambled out of the bed to help her. He squatted down by her side. "Mom?" he asked. She looked at him with stony eyes, then coughed. It was a horrible, retching cough, and with it, something started coming out of her mouth. Matt looked down and was horrified to see that spiders were beginning to crawl out of her. He began to back away as they continuously poured out of her, finally bumping into Ben's bed. He turned around and shook Ben until his eyes opened. "Ben! Something's wrong!"

Ben's smile in response to Matt's statement was uncaring, borderline malicious. "I'm afraid not," Ben's body said, "Ben has been gone for some time. Don't worry though," it added, starting to get up, "soon you'll see things our way." He grabbed Matt to hold him still, and Matt began thrashing in turn. He started flailing even harder when he felt those bugs crawl up his back, until one finally bit him on the back of the neck, making him go completely still. Then everything faded to black.

Matt opened his eyes, then, and found himself lying on a forest floor. Even in the dim twilight, he had to shut his eyes to shut out the splitting pain in his head. He felt a fire in his leg, a dull ache in his ankle, and an odd weight on his chest, and found that it was very difficult to breathe.

"Matt," he heard a familiar, gentle voice call. He turned his head towards the sound, squinting painfully at the source.

"Mom?" he asked. His throat felt like it was shredded to pieces, and his mother, upon seeing his wince, shushed him.

"Don't try to talk, baby," She soothed, kneeling down to stroke his hair, "Just go back to sleep. You'll be ok." She smiled lovingly at him.

"But I'm not tired." He began to protest, but even as he said so, his eyelids began to droop, and he felt a heaviness overtake his body. He heard his mother chuckle, then felt her kiss on his forehead before the world descended into darkness once more.

He continued like that for three days, somewhere between asleep and awake, his memory shot. Both his waking and sleeping moments were filled with dreams and hallucinations, some good and some bad of each. Each time he awoke, he felt the same weight on his chest that made it painful to breathe, and he would see someone he had thought was dead, or see something horrifying. Either way, it always ended with his going back to sleep.

Finally, after days of this torture, Matt woke up for good. He wasn't clear-headed by any means, but he could remember what was going on, what he had been doing, and, very vaguely, what had happened right before he had blacked out. He still felt the pains from before, and upon trying to sit up, found he was pinned down. He looked at his chest only to find the skitter from earlier on top of him, now headless and beginning to rot.

Disgusted, Matt pushed with all his strength at the body on top of him, and through some miracle, managed to get it off him. He quickly had to lie back down though; his head throbbed and the inside of his mouth felt like clay. He needed water, badly. But at least he could breathe now. After a few more minutes, he pushed himself up into a sitting position to inspect the pain in his legs. He grimaced at the sight of his very swollen left foot sticking out at an odd angle, but he wasn't surprised. He had remembered that happening. But the bullet wound in his right upper thigh was new, and it was absolutely on fire.

The only thing he could figure was that someone had seen the skitter that was carrying him and not seen him and, upon shooting the skitter, shot him accidentally as well. No matter now; Matt needed water, and he was completely baffled as to how he was going to get some. He chewed his cheek, racking his brains for something, anything, but his head hurt, his thoughts were clouded with pain and grogginess, and he had no idea where he was. He lay back down and almost started to cry, when he heard something that caught his attention. It sounded like running water, and if he could hear it that meant it wasn't that far off.

He sat up again to try dragging himself towards the sound, and found when he did that his pants were soaking and soiled. He had to quickly lean over to avoid puking into his own lap; he was so disgusted with himself. But then, he thought, of course something like that would have happened. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, but he knew it had to have been a long time. So, taking a deep breath, he began to inch slowly backwards to his left; the direction he heard the water. It sent fire up either of his legs every time he tried to move them, or even if they hit a particularly bad bump, but the agony was bearable if it meant staying alive.

He finally, finally made it to the stream, and turned over to cup the water in his hands and bring it to his face. Any other time, the water might have tasted gross, but Matt couldn't get enough. He kept drinking and drinking, finally forcing himself to slow down when he started to feel ill. He then lay back down, only beginning to feel the effects of the past few days on his body. He ached all over, he was hungry and weak, and he was so tired. Bringing his arms up to his face, he began to cry noisily into his hands. He couldn't do this anymore. He was hurt, his vision was impaired, he was lost and tired, and he was never going to be able to find his brother. Why had he ever followed him into the woods? He had often found himself wishing for the safety and comfort of his own bedroom, his own house, even school, while he was enjoying a meager meal with the Second Mass. He longed for his mother's arms more often than he could tell. But now, the Second Mass with its meager portions and mediocre sleeping situations seemed like heaven. He wanted to be hugged by his brother again, to be bossed around by his dad. He missed Anne and Lourdes too, and he missed Maggie. He missed his sleeping bag and his cot, he missed the food, and he couldn't help but cry at the thought of losing everything.

Suddenly, through his arms, he saw a shadow loom above him. He uncovered his eyes and gasped at what he saw: a skitter with a red eye standing over him. He was terrified, but not as much as he usually would be. He didn't even try to fight back when the skitter picked him up, knowing that any attempt at escape would fail and probably cause him more pain.

Instead, he just put his head in his hands and bawled.

**(a/n) There it is. I was debating making this chapter six and switching the two, but no. I like it better this way. Tell me what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**(a/n) Here's chapter six!**

Ben felt the familiar tingling in his back that signaled an attempt at contact. Alarmed, he blocked it out and began to take down the temporary camp he had set up for himself. Blocking them out while he was concentrating really hard on packing up wasn't difficult; if his mind was really focused on something else, he could keep from focusing on them. But he knew that the moment he was finished that he would have no way of blocking them out.

His thoughts went fuzzy for a moment as they pushed harder, but he forced them out again. He could feel them getting nearer, so he quickened his packing. Still they pushed harder into his thoughts, and he finally had to give in because of the headache forming in the base of his skull.

It wasn't and enemy skitter at all! It was the leader of the resistance, and he sounded urgent. Ben closed his eyes and willed himself to listen. Sometimes if the frequency was messed up or if they were far enough away it was hard to understand them. Not to mention the fact that most of them spoke a different language, and while the harness provided a translator, some things simply didn't translate. The alien that the rebel leader used to be, for instance, grew up on a planet where music was virtually nonexistent, so they had no terms for anything musical. 'Song' translated to 'noise,' 'melody' to 'noise pleasing to the ear' and so forth.

Those aliens also held no sentiment to anything that had to do with family – once and egg was laid the mother left it and every egg that survived fended for itself after it hatched – so it took Ben a while to figure out that 'younger similar male' meant little brother, and even longer to realize that the rebel leader meant he had Matt – and Matt was hurt.

Ben felt fear stab into his heart like a sharp knife, and he opened his eyes, dropping everything in his hands to run towards where the rebel leader said he was. He would pause every few seconds to listen again and make sure he was going the right direction; the fear in his mind was clouding any sense of whether or not he was getting closer.

He could feel panic begin to rise up in his throat, along with wonderment. What was Matt even doing anywhere near here? Where was the rest of the Second Mass? Had they come after him? Tears started welling up in Ben's eyes as he frantically looked around him for any sign of the rebel leader that apparently had his little brother. Where were they? He knew they were close, he could feel it, but he couldn't see them.

"Ben?" He whipped his head around to the small, scared voice and saw Matt in the arms of the skitter who had contacted him. Ben let out a relieved half-sob as he reached out his arms to take his brother.

"Thank you," he gasped to the skitter, who made a motion like a nod and turned the opposite direction. Ben then sank to his knees, holding Matt to him in a way the he could look into his eyes. For a while, all he could do was stare at him. Then he found his voice. "Are you hurt?" He asked, and Matt nodded in response. "Where?"

"My legs. My head is killing me too." Matt's reply was feeble at best, and he sounded like he had just gotten over a bad case of the flu. Ben looked at him in concern – he had already noticed the large gash just above his eye. Had it been a year ago, their mom would have rushed Matt right to the hospital to get stitches, but this wound looked three to four days old, and judging by the dried blood still caked down that side of his face, his dad hadn't noticed at all. Ben frowned. There were a million questions sprinting around his mind right now, but as his eyes travelled down Matt's body, finally finding the source of the pain in his legs, he bit down on his tongue. They could wait; Matt couldn't. There was a bullet wound in his leg that was still oozing blood, and it looked as though his left ankle was badly broken.

He got up off the ground and began carrying Matt back to his campsite. He had no medical supplies to speak of – he hadn't thought he would need them – so all he could really do was clean him up, but he knew he had to do something. It looked like that bullet wound was infected.

He laid Matt gently on the ground, not wanting to jostle or hurt him anymore than he already was. It looked like the poor kid had lost a bunch of weight, not to mention a bunch of blood. Just what had he been _doing_? And where was everybody that was supposed to take care of him? No way would Hal or his dad let injuries like this go this long without treatment.

He looked into Matt's fevered eyes as he dabbed at his head with a damp cloth and attempted a smile. "Hey, little buddy," he said gently, "I missed you." Matt gave him a shaky, tired smile.

"I missed you too." He whispered back. Ben's throat closed up at the sound of the weak, innocent voice, and he quickly move to Matt's legs to prevent him seeing the tears welling up in Ben's eyes. He ripped open his pant leg, tactfully not mentioning that it was soaking wet with something that smelled an awful lot like urine, and peered more closely at the bullet hole. It was red and inflamed, oozing droplets of blood and puss, and there was and angry red mark going up his thigh away from the wound. Ben couldn't stifle the gasp that came out; his little brother had blood poisoning.

"What is it?" Matt asked, and Ben could hear the fear in his voice as he tried to sit up and see.

Ben pushed him down gently but firmly. "Lie down and let me take care of you, ok?" He smiled lovingly at Matt. "You've got blood poisoning in your leg, is all. It sounds scary, but it's nothing that can't be fixed with a little medicine. You're going to be ok. Ok?" Matt nodded to show he understood.

Ben moved back down to the wound, letting the façade fall away again. If Matt didn't get this treated pretty soon, he could die. That wasn't even a possibility Ben wanted to consider, though, so he rinsed out his cloth and started dabbing at the wound as softly as he could, shushing Matt's whimpers of pain by putting his hand in Matt's. "Squeeze if it hurts." Matt immediately gripped his hand so hard he could feel the bones grind together. For someone who looked like he had just been saved from the threshold of death, that kid had a strong grip.

Ben continued to doctor Matt as best as he could – which wasn't very well – until the sun began to set. Finally, he looked him in the eye and said, "The bullet is still in your leg, and if it stays there it will cause more damage." Matt nodded, his eyes full of fear and comprehension. "I'm going to have to take it out. It's going to hurt, probably a lot, but I know you can do this, ok?" Again, Matt nodded, this time setting his teeth in determination.

Ben took a deep, shaky breath and gave Matt's hand one final squeeze before letting go; he would need both hands to do this. He wiped both of them off on the cloth he had been using, then stuck his finger in the hole. Matt scrunched up his face, arched his back, and screamed. Ben gritted his teeth as his eyes welled up with tears for the third time that day. He had to do this. He felt around a bit inside the hole, Matt screaming his head off, until his finger nicked something hard and sharp. It wasn't bone, Ben knew that for sure, so he pushed further in to try and hook his finger around it. He couldn't help but feel as though he was just doing more damage, but he needed to get the chunk out of Matt's leg. Finally, he managed to catch it, and he very slowly started to bring it to the opening. Matt yelled louder and started to sob, until finally Ben brought out a blood-soaked hand with a metal shard between his fingers.

He threw aside the bullet and picked up his brother, cradling Matt's head in his arms. He rocked him back and forth, apologizing over and over for hurting him, while Matt just sobbed into his shoulder. Finally, Matt calmed down enough to push himself away from Ben. "Sorry I screamed so loud," He managed miserably, and Ben just hugged him tighter.

"It's fine Matty, don't apologize. I'm sorry that it hurt that bad." Then Ben gave Matt an extra squeeze and reluctantly set him back down, knowing he had to finish packing. He needed to get Matt back to the Second Mass. "Where is everybody else?" He asked.

"I don't know," Matt answered. "I saw you leave, and I followed you. I don't know where they went after that." Ben's eyes widened in disbelief; he had left five days ago. That meant his little brother had been alone in the woods for the past five days. Their dad and Hal would be absolutely out of their minds with worry by now.

"Why did you do that?" Ben noticed when he asked the question that his voice was just a hair above its usual octave.

Matt looked down, feeling just a little bit ashamed. He hadn't been thinking altogether clearly when he had made his decision, but now he knew how stupid it had been. Ben would not like his answer. "Because I didn't want you to get lonely."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but Ben whipped around to stare at him anyway. Such an innocent reason, and it had caused so much trouble and hurt. He bent down again to hug his little brother tightly. A few tears escaped through his tightly closed eyelids, and a sob racked his body. He held Matt for another minute or two, then got up again to continue packing, carefully hiding his face as he did so.

When he had finished, he slung his backpack and gun around his shoulder and turned around to face Matt. "You ready to go buddy?" He asked.

Matt nodded, "Yes, but one problem. I can't walk?"

Ben smiled down at him. "You thought I was going to make you walk? What kind of a brother would I be?" Then he bent down and scooped his little brother into his arms, trying not to jostle his broken ankle. "Let's go," he said, and began making his way to the trail.

**(a/n) Sorry that it was so long in posting. I hope it was at least a little worth it.**


	7. Safety

**(a/n) Another Ben and Matt chapter. =) There's some Tom and Hal in there too.**

Ben had been trudging along the path with Matt for quite some time – something close to 12 hours – and though he knew he was going the right direction, he had yet to actually recognize any of his surroundings. It worried him; maybe he had gone much further than he had thought at first? This just didn't feel right. He knew his dad, and he would have made the entire Second Mass stop just so he could find Matt – he would have moved mountains if it meant finding any of his missing sons – and he wouldn't have taken orders from Weaver to do otherwise; Tom was a dad before he was anything else, even second in command of the Second Massachusetts. He knew he had to be getting closer, and his hearing was so spectacular that he knew he would hear them long before Matt would, and he had hoped he would have heard something by now, but he hadn't. He was getting worried.

To make matters worse, Matt's condition was getting worse. Ben could keep him hydrated and keep him at least a little warm, but the fevered heat burning through clothes and skin told him that that might not be the best thing to do anymore. Matt had always had a problem with his fevers; unless it was fairly mild, it didn't break on its own, and his childhood asthma had always complicated matters further. Granted, Matt's asthma hadn't actually acted up in about three years, but he had never had a fever this bad. Had it been a year ago, his parents would have dunked Matt in an ice bath and pumped him full of antibiotics. Hell, had it been a year ago, their over-protective mother would have taken Matt to the hospital for fear of febrile seizures, another complication that often manifested itself when Matt's body temperature spiked the way it tended to.

Ben nervously looked down at Matt, taking in his fever-flushed cheeks, prominent against his too-pale skin. He had long-since fallen asleep, still exhausted from the past three days. Ben had given him most of his left over food and was still waking him up every hour or so and making him drink water, but he knew that Matt needed medicine – badly, and soon. He quickened his pace just a hair as he heard Matt begin to whimper in his sleep, his candy-pink lips beginning to quiver.

He walked a little ways further until Matt gasped suddenly. Alarmed, Ben stopped and shook Matt awake, noting as his little brothers lolling head made contact with the skin on his arm that the younger boy's forehead felt like it could fry an egg. He looked worriedly down into the fever-brightened eyes of his little brother. "Are you okay?" he asked, and Matt simply stared back blankly, as if he didn't know who it was that was holding him as gently as possible. "Matty?" Ben asked again, more urgently this time. Matt just smiled dopily, turning his head lazily to look at the ground.

"Hi, Freckles," he mumbled hoarsely, reaching his hand out weakly towards something that wasn't there.

Ben's eyes widened slightly as he heard his brother's delusional greeting. Freckles was a dog they had had when they were kids; he had died when Matt was only three. If Matt was 'seeing' him, that meant he was beginning to hallucinate, which meant that his fever had gotten too high – way too high. Ben squeezed his little brother tightly then set him down for a minute while he stepped away for a bit to pick up some of the frigid leaves that coated the ground – maybe they could work like ice packs and cool him down. He could have easily taken Matt with him, but he had heard somewhere back when he was in boy scouts that the ground absorbed body heat. Of course, they had been telling him to avoid sleeping on the ground in the event he ever got lost in the woods during winter, but it was useful information nonetheless.

He picked up some of the frozen leaves and brought them back to his brother. As he stuffed them down his shirt and into his collar to cool his neck, he noticed that Matt had once again wet his pants. This time, however, Matt hadn't even taken any notice. It wasn't right; Ben knew that his brother was very self-conscious of the fact that he had once been a bed-wetter, and even though it wasn't his fault, he still felt humiliated and disgusted with himself any time he woke up with wet sheets. But this time, Matt had been awake when he had done this, and he hadn't even cared. This wasn't looking good.

Ben picked up Matt again and began walking as fast as he was willing, scared of causing Matt anymore pain than he was already in. He didn't care about whatever bodily fluids were soaking through clothes and contacting skin, he didn't care that it was inconvenient and tiring to carry his little brother so far, all he cared about was the fact that the warm, frail body in his arms was steadily growing dangerously warmer and frailer, and he was terrified of what would happen if it got to be too much.

"But why do we have to leave?" Tom protested. Weaver had called for a meeting, and afterwards he had called Tom and Hal over separately to inform them that it was well past time to go. Hal had sputtered himself into an angry and sullen silence. He had known that this was coming, and no matter how badly he wanted his little brothers back, he knew he couldn't risk the lives of everyone in the Second Mass to continue searching for a boy who was mostly likely dead or prisoner by now.

Tom, however, had had a much less accepting view. "We're clear of being trapped or ambushed, we've barely seen anything of the skitters since Ben left. We're not in danger. Why should we leave?"

"Look, Tom, I know you want to find your boy, and I understand that, but we can't let out emotions get in the way of what is best for the Second Mass." Tom started to protest Weaver's counter, but Weaver continued over him, "We are putting everyone at risk by sitting here. We're sitting ducks out here. Even if Ben is gone and that really is who they were after, they could still be after you. You got on their ship, after all. And I won't put the Second Mass in danger just to find one kid who has probably been taken prisoner by now – or worse."

Tom's head snapped up to Weaver with that last part. The possibilities of what had happened to Matt had been running around his head ever since Weaver had told them they could no longer send out search parties – it was wasting too much gas and they needed the fighters at camp to defend the civilians in case of an attack. He had known that Matt's chances of surviving on his own were slim at best – not including health problems, Matt was far too young to even consider wandering off on his own – but he had always sort of blocked out the bad possibilities, not even wanting to consider them. The worst he had let himself imagine was that his son had been harnessed, and though he sincerely hoped for the best, that Matt was fine and he had found Ben and Ben would bring Matt back, Tom knew deep down that it was irrational to believe it was true.

But now here was the harsh truth, staring him in the face disguised as his captain and commander, telling him that he was foolish to believe anything other than the worst. Tom meekly shook his head, a shrinking vein of defiance still controlling his movements, but he knew it was no use. Weaver had made up his mind, and though there could be a tiny bit of compromise, Tom had discovered, once Weaver made up his mind, that was that. Tom just continued to stare helplessly at Weaver, feeling everything he'd put up with for the past year now starting to come down on him all at once. He had lost his wife, and then his son, but he had two other sons he had to be strong for. He had known that, and though it didn't make it okay or provide any comfort, he had been able to be strong for Hal and Matt. He had seen people die, and it got to him every time even if he didn't show it. He could put up with it if it meant that his sons never saw their dad break down.

But this – this was just too much. Not his son. Not his baby boy. Two of them, really, and on the same day, too. He knew Ben would be okay – at the very least, he could take care of himself – but that didn't make him any less gone. That didn't make Tom miss him any less. But Matt had gone too, and now he had lost two of his sons less than a year after he had lost his wife. He couldn't do this; it was too much.

Tom could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he thought about the possibility of losing his children. He remembered a line from the third Lord of the Rings movie – "No man should have to bury their child," – and at the time he had only felt a great sense of pity for Théoden, king of Rohan. But now – and it was his worst nightmare come to life – he thought he knew how the old man felt. That movie didn't do this kind of grief justice. Once again, Tom shook his head, not trusting himself to vocally protest for fear of breaking down entirely.

Weaver gently placed his hand on Tom's shoulder. "I'm sorry Tom," he said gingerly, and he meant it. He had gotten kind of close to the Mason boys in Tom's three-month absence, and he knew the pain of losing a child felt impossible to get through. But they had to do this. "We'll leave in twelve hours. That gives you enough time for one more search party. After that, sorry, but we have to go. Good luck," He added, then breezed past Tom and out of the tent.

Tom looked up at Hal's bleak and stunned face; he wanted so badly to reach out and hold close the only thing he had left, but before he got the chance, Hal turned and ran out of the tent. Tom raced after him, yelling as he went, "Hey! Where are you going?"

Hal half-turned towards his dad, slowing some but still walking fast, and responded with, "We gotta get the team together. We have one last chance for a search party, and we have to find them this time." Though he knew the chances of finding either Ben or Matt – much less both of them together – were very slim and growing slimmer, Hal knew that they had to try. He couldn't just give up on his little brothers, and if they were being given one last chance to find them, then they were going to take it.

"Hal!" Maggie's voice rang out from behind him, and Hal whipped around to find her sort of half-jogging to him. "What's up?" she asked when she saw the urgent look on his face.

"Help us get some people together. Dai, Anthony, Tector – whoever you think will help us." At Maggie's questioning look, Hal just smiled at her and said, "We're going to find my brothers."

Ben sat down again on the side of the trail, once again waking up Matt to give him some water. Matt had lost touch with reality, but Ben knew water was essential, and he would find a way to give it to him. He had an extra shirt in his backpack, and he used it to pick up some ice from the ground, then squeezed the cloth over Matt's mouth. In a way, this was almost better; at least the water went through a little bit of filtering before entering the sick child's body.

Ben tenderly combed through Matt's blond curls with a shaking hand, a lump forming in his throat at all he had been through. He had already had a seizure due to his fever – Ben had just sat with Matt in front of him, watching to make sure he didn't get hurt worse or become sciatic. Now, he looked at his little brother sadly. What had he done to deserve anything like this? Why would anybody deserve to be this sick?

A noise in the distance interrupted Ben's thoughts, and he perked up his ears to listen, hardly daring to breathe. Was that what he thought it was? It was! It was motorcycles! Ben quickly scooped Matt back up and began carrying him towards the noise. He knew that it probably wasn't anyone in the Second Mass, but whoever it was had vehicles, and maybe they would be willing to help them out.

Ben stopped every once in a while just to make sure he could still hear the bikes. Maybe it was just his optimism speaking, but he thought he could hear them growing closer.

About ten minutes later, his hopes were confirmed when Matt said "Hal's home from Julian's house."

Ben smiled down at him. "That's right, Matt. Do you hear his motorcycle?" Matt nodded in response, and Ben nearly laughed in relief. Maybe now they could finally get some help.

He rounded a corner he thought he recognized and saw in the distance the bikes he had heard. He was now within their line of sight, and in a few moments he could be within their range of hearing. He started running, yelling as he did so, "Hey! Over here! Help us!" He was satisfied when one of the men turned his head towards the sound and started riding towards them – then he stopped short when he noticed it was Pope. Anthony was right behind him, but Ben knew that Pope didn't care what anybody thought, and he had a grudge against Ben.

All he said when he pulled up beside them, though, was, "Hey kid, we've been looking for you." Then Anthony pulled up, a disbelieving look on his face, and Ben knew that even if they had been looking for them, they certainly hadn't expected to find them.

"Where are my dad and Hal?" He asked, and once again it was Pope who spoke.

"We split up into parties of two; Tom's with Dai and Hal's with Maggie." Then Pope nodded to the shivering bundle in Ben's arms and said, "We all thought he was dead."

Ben was not surprised to hear that. Matt was just a little kid; nobody would have expected him to be alive. But the statement still made him squeeze his little brother closer to him, unwilling to let him go.

Anthony, seeing this, gestured with his head to the back of his bike. "Come one," he said, "I'll take you back to camp. He looks like he could use some medical attention." Then he turned to Pope, "You go after the others and tell them that we've found them and taken them back to the med bus."

Ben gave Anthony a grateful look as he mounted the bike, Matt set firmly in his lap. "We found them, Matty." He whispered in his baby brother's ear as they started out. "We found them. Everything's going to be okay."

"Dad!" Tom heard the yell from somewhere behind him, and turned to see a delighted-looking Hal riding towards him with Pope and Maggie right behind him. He pulled up along-side Tom's bike and breathed, "Pope said he and Anthony found Ben and Matt and Anthony took 'em back to the med bus." He grinned at Tom excitedly.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at Pope, who responded by saying, "Look, it's true. You can't make this stuff up, professor." And he shrugged.

Tom felt his heart swell at the thought of seeing his boys again, and he waved Dai back over so they could start heading back. He was caught somewhere between elation and worry; elation because that meant both his sons were home again, and alive, and worry because if they were being taken to the med bus, that meant at least one of them was hurt or sick.

The ride back seemed to take a very long time, even though they had only gone a couple of miles out, and as soon as they parked their bikes, Tom was off and running towards the med bus, Hal hot on his heels.

Ben stared down at his baby brother's face as Anne and Lourdes cut through his clothing, inspecting his wounds and checking his body temperature. "106.2" He heard Anne say, and his heart clenched at that thought. A fever that high was definitely worth a hospital visit, and Matt had just had to go on with it. The blood poisoning was worse than Ben had thought, Matt was nearly starved, Anne had said she would have to re-break his ankle and get it set correctly to ensure proper healing, and he had been severely concussed according to Lourdes.

Ben had been so caught up in his thoughts about Matt that he hadn't even heard the bikes pull in. It wasn't until he heard hurried footsteps outside the med bus that he turned and saw his dad and Hal – just in time for Hal's body to collide with his own in a tight hug that knocked the breath out his lungs. Surprised, he returned his brother's embrace in full, wondering just how much he and Matt had worried everybody. He looked through tear-flooded eyes over Hal's shoulder at his dad – it had been years since he or Hal had shown each other any kind of affection – to see his dad smiling at him with the same expression he had worn when Ben had first woken up from getting his harness removed. Ben took one arm away from his brother, tightening the other to ensure that he wouldn't go away, and his dad joined the embrace.

"Told you you would see me again," he muttered, and his dad laughed thickly in response. Then they broke apart, and Tom stared worriedly at Matt for a while before turning to Ben, who answered his unspoken plea for information. "He has a really bad fever – had a seizure on the way here and he had started hallucinating – and it's from some bad blood poisoning from a bullet hole in his leg. His ankle is broken pretty badly, and he has a good-sized gash on his forehead, which is probably how he got the concussion Anne and Lourdes talked about."

His dad's eyes had steadily gotten wider with worry, and Hal was staring stonily at his scrawny brother lying in the bed in front of him. His dad's breathy response showed that he had focused on the same thing as Hal, "Bullet hole?" Someone had _shot_ Matt. That was absolutely not okay.

Ben shrugged helplessly in response. "I don't know what happened to him. He was already sick and nearly delusional when I found him, and I didn't want to question him too much." Tom nodded in painful understanding. Matt's health was more important than their want for information.

A little while later, after Anne and Lourdes had finished – for the moment – with Matt, all of the Masons sat in the med bus surrounding his bed. Hal and Ben had both fallen asleep, heads resting on Matt's bed, and Tom sat and just stared at his beautiful boys. He reached over and gently brushed Ben's cheek, then Matt's bangs, then Hal's hand. He sighed, loving the sight of all this sons together. He knew that Matt wasn't entirely out of the woods yet, and that Ben would probably try to leave as soon as he was, but for now at least, Tom had this luxury. For now, his boys were safe at home.

**(a/n) Whew! That was longer than I planned. I liked it though. Did you?**


End file.
